


in the line of fire

by blondsak



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bodyguard Tony Stark, Gen, I have truly tossed canon out the window this time, Kidnapping, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, like defcon 1 defenestration levels here, what is canon but someone else's fanfiction anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24273217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak/pseuds/blondsak
Summary: Former prisoner of war and current personal protection officer Tony Stark never expected to get assigned to be the bodyguard of 15 year-old Peter Parker – heir to Parker Industries and the ward of CEO Obadiah Stane.Nor does Tony expect to grow so fond of the kid, which makes things all the worse when Peter is viciously kidnapped from right under his nose.Who took Peter? What do they want with him? And what in the world is HYDRA?The answers to those questions ultimately don’t matter. All that matters is that Tony is bringing Peter home – whatever it takes.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 296
Kudos: 313





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hailingstars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailingstars/gifts).



> Happy early birthday, lovely lady! First, thank you for being so cool about me posting the first chapter of this a few weeks early :) And thank you for always being so supportive and kind and for all the amazing stories you have shared with us! You’re the best and I appreciate you so much <3 <3 <3
> 
> Big thanks to coconutknightshade for sending in the tumblr ask that inspired the plot of this fic months ago, and to seekrest for her neverending encouragement as always <3
> 
> Some terms and references that show up in this chapter:  
> PPO: Personal Protection Officer, industry term for a bodyguard  
> Principal: the individual a PPO is hired to protect  
> Client: the PPO’s employer, who is sometimes but not always the principal  
> Walter Reed: a US military medical center located outside of Washington, DC  
> EOD: Explosive Ordnance Disposal, a bomb specialist unit

_Knock. Knock knock…_

Tony blinks his eyes open, only to shut them tight again with a groan-- his hangover making its presence known before his brain has a chance to fully register the early afternoon light filling up his bedroom.

Pressing his face into his pillow, he fumbles blindly at his nightstand for his phone, opening a blurry eye to check the time as soon as he has it in hand.

“Fuck,” he mutters, seeing it’s well past noon. He was supposed to meet Rhodey for burgers at Delmar’s nearly an hour ago. 

With another groan he gets to his feet, running a hand through his bedhead before stumbling through his apartment - a shoebox in Queens - in the direction of the door. He doesn’t even glance at the beer bottles strewn about the kitchen counter, though he winces to himself when he spots the Chinese takeout he’d accidentally left out on the coffee table.

_Knock-knock-knock--_

Plastering on a smile, Tony throws open the door. “Hey platypus!”

“That’s sourpatch to you right now,” Rhodey retorts, walking right in and casting a narrow eye at the state of the place only to turn back to Tony-- looking him up and down. “And you didn’t even bother to put pants on. Nice, Tones. I could have been anyone, you do realize that?”

Tony shrugs, yawning as he goes over to the counter, grabbing one of the bottles that wasn’t entirely empty and drinking down the last drops of beer. He opens a cabinet and takes out one of his few clean glasses, filling it with water and downing it in one gulp.

“What can I say? I took a gamble and it paid off,” he says, filling the glass up again. “Besides, who can resist fawning over a pair of lovely gams like these?"

Rhodey rolls his eyes. “So did you forget or did you oversleep this time?”

“Overslept,” Tony answers honestly, downing the second glass of water before walking over to the couch and grabbing one of the takeout boxes. “I _did_ forget to set my alarm last night though.”

“You mean you were too drunk to remember.”

“Same difference,” Tony quips, only to lose the front when Rhodey just glares. “Look, I’m sorry. Did you get a burger before you came over at least? And uh-- you think moo shu pork is still safe to eat after being left out for eight hours? Nine at most.”

“Of course I got a burger-- it’s Delmar’s. And no, but I have a feeling you’re going to eat it anyway,” Rhodey says with a sigh, before coming to sit down on the couch next to Tony-- making a face when Tony plucks a plastic fork from the takeout bag, diving right in.

They sit in silence for a minute or two, Tony wordlessly gesturing to the remote-- face falling when Rhodey just shakes his head, staring at Tony with something akin to pity for so long that Tony has to look away, feeling under the microscope-- far too seen.

He’d rather take the earlier anger than deal with that. One of the pitfalls of having somehow kept the same best friend for nearly two decades, he supposes. They tend to know you too damn well sometimes.

“Look, Tones, I think it’s time we talked about--”

“I genuinely didn’t mean to stand you up,” Tony interjects, setting down the box. “I know it’s not exactly around the corner for you. What do you say I make it up to you on Wednesday night, eh? I’ll get us tickets to the Rangers, even throw in one of those giant foam hands you love to thwap me on the head with when I get too cursy for the kiddies. It’ll be great, what'd ya say?”

“You know I hate hockey,” Rhodey says. “And don’t change the subject. You know as well as I do that this isn’t a good look. I mean, christ, Tones-- you _do_ realize who you remind me of right now, don’t you?”

“And there you go playing the Howard card, my favorite,” Tony mutters petulantly. “Look, I said I was sorry. But shit happens sometimes, alright? I just drank a bit too much last night--”

“Last night?” Rhodey asks incredulously. “You’ve been drinking _a bit too much_ since you left the army. That was over a year ago, man.”

“Well, I’m sorry if having PTSD from being a prisoner of war for nearly three months isn’t a good enough reason for wanting to get wasted every now and then.”

“You know that’s not what I’m saying--”

“Then what are you saying? That I’m just a useless drunk like my old man was, is that it?”

“I’m _saying_ you’re my best friend and I’m worried about you,” Rhodey says, refusing to take the bait. “Also that I’m tired of seeing my best friend treat himself like shit. It’s bringing me back to MIT, man. And not in a good way.”

Tony bites the inside of his cheek hard. God, but he’s too hungover to deal with this right now. 

“Look, I didn’t come here to fight,” Rhodey finally says. “I actually have a new job for you-- the client asked for you by name.”

“Oh yeah? Who for?” Tony says, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, is it Jennifer? Garner or Lopez, I’m not picky.”

Ever since leaving the Air Force five years ago, Rhodey had run a security firm outside of an office in Brooklyn-- having become quite successful in just a few short years. The firm catered to high-level clients like executives and celebrities. 

Tony had been working there ever since he landed back in the city, not a week after he’d been released from Walter Reed. The job wasn’t glamorous - the days could be long and boring, and you had to put up with a lot of shit from smarmy rich assholes - but it sure as hell beat sitting in a cubicle from nine to five.

“No Affleck exes,” Rhodey says with a smirk. “It’s Peter Parker, the PI heir.”

“PI, as in Parker Industries?” Tony shakes his head. “Oh no, I’m not watching any snot-nosed kid, Rhodey. Not full time, anyway.”

“He’s fifteen,” Rhodey says patiently, “That’s hardly a little kid. And like I said, you were asked for by name. Stane is willing to pay premium to get you on the boy’s detail. They’re even throwing in an apartment in the tower, free of charge.”

“Obadiah Stane asked for me by name? Why the hell would he do that?”

Rhodey rolls his eyes. “He’s the CEO of a giant corporation that specializes in advanced weapons of war. Doesn’t seem like a stretch for him to remember what you did back in Kandahar. I’m surprised you haven’t had any of the heavy hitters chasing you down for a look at those suit specs, to be honest.”

Tony shrugs. “That suit was made from scrap metal, held together by a few screws, some spit and a prayer. It was a piece of junk.”

Rhodey smirks, raising his eyebrows skeptically. “Whatever you say, Tones. In any case, this is a good opportunity-- for both of us.”

“How long?” Tony asks, leaning his head back on the couch and staring at the various water stains on his ceiling.

“Start with a six-month contract, and if you don’t want to re-up after that, I won’t push it, I swear. But at least go meet with Stane, for me? Please?”

Tony sighs, only to put an arm around Rhodey’s shoulders-- the tension from earlier long gone. He gives Rhodey an exaggerated kiss on the cheek. “Aw honeybear, you know I can’t say no to you when you ask so nicely. Alright, I’ll do it on one condition.”

Rhodey ducks away, making a look of disgust. “Get your stale beer breath out of my face, good god. And fine, name your terms.”

“You owe me weekly delivery from Delmar’s until this is over. Number two combo with onion rings-- no, _extra_ onion rings.”

“Done.”

Tony grins, throwing the empty takeout box into the bag it came from before standing up and grabbing the whole thing to toss in the trash.

“A teenager though? Really?” he says when he plops back down on the couch-- having resisted the urge to pull a beer out of the fridge on his way back.

“Consider it payback for the years I had to put up with babysitting your pubescent ass back in college,” Rhodey replies. “And besides, if what I’ve heard is true, the kid’s a straight-up genius-- might do you some good to hang around someone smarter than you for a change. Keep that big brain of yours from rotting any more than it already has.”

“Har har. Everyone’s a critic.”

* * *

Tony arrives at the PI tower fifteen minutes early for his meeting, just as he planned. He might be a bad friend who sleeps through lunch, but he does try to be a good employee when he can manage it.

After being sent up to the 98th floor by a lobby desk worker, he’s instructed to wait on one of the expensive-looking leather couches. There he sits for nearly a half hour before the secretary - a pretty raven-haired woman named Natalie - beckons him to follow her down the hall.

Mr. Stane is staring out one of the many floor-to-ceiling windows when Tony is ushered in, tossing what looks to be a tiny toy ball in the air over and over. Natalie gives him a small smile before softly closing the door behind her.

Tony turns back to the older man. “Mr. Stane? I’m Tony Stark. James Rhodes said you requested me for the job of--”

“Ah yes, Stark-- the famed Iron Man,” Stane greets, back still turned. “Your reputation precedes you. A POW who escaped by building his own wearable weapons system right under the noses of his captors. Quite the origin story, isn’t it? I’d love to hear the details sometime.”

Tony thinks of drowning, and dust, and Yinsen choking on his own blood. Then he shakes his head, pushing away those thoughts as he replies, “With all due respect, sir, it would have been a better story if the suit’s battery hadn’t crapped out on me just as I was blasting out of there.”

Stane chuckles. “You were a bomb specialist before your imprisonment, were you not? EOD unit?” 

“Yes, sir.”

Stane finally twists to face Tony-- a smooth and practiced smile on his face as he waves him over. “Come here, come take a look at this.”

Tony walks past the man’s desk and stops only once he’s right in front of Stane, who throws the ball up one last time before catching it and holding it out for Tony to examine, palm flat. 

“See this little beauty-- she doesn’t look like much but believe me, she’s a poisoned apple if there ever was one. Kills within a fifteen foot range, like getting hit with a faceful of micro-sized needle-sharp buckshot. Any one of a thousand within pierces your brain or heart and it’s lights out!”

Before Tony can think of a reply, Stane pulls his other hand out of his pocket, revealing a tiny remote between his fingers. Without flinching he presses down on the remote’s lone button, and to Tony’s horror the little ball starts to glow, getting brighter and brighter.

Tony jumps backwards with a yelp, lifting his arms and preparing for a hit only to lower them a few moments later when Stane releases a booming laugh-- the tiny bomb still in his palm but open, having been empty the entire time.

“Sorry, sorry,” Stane says, still chuckling. “But you see, first impressions matter, and you need to know right off the bat-- Parker Industries is going to continue to remake war, just as we have been for over twenty years. And _you_ can help ensure that future.”

Stane sets down the remote and empty bomb both on his desk, before settling both his hands on Tony’s shoulders and gripping tightly, as if to be friendly. But their weight only serves to make Tony feel immediately claustrophobic-- trapped back in the cave with his captors.

“I hope you understand what an important job this is, Stark. Now, I know it’s nothing flashy or glamorous like your escape,” - Tony barely holding back a scowl at Stane’s choice of words - “but all the same, Peter is my ward and the future of this company, and I don’t take his safety lightly. Anyone tasked with protecting him must be prepared to lay their life down without hesitation. So I have only one interview question for you: can I count on you to do that if the time comes?”

Tony nods, gaze unwavering as he stares hard into Stane’s eyes. “I understand the risks, sir, and I’m prepared to meet them. Protecting my principal comes first, always.”

“Good,” Stane says after a beat, dropping his hands from Tony’s shoulders-- Tony carefully keeping his expression neutral so as not to give away the immediate relief he feels when Stane moves away. “In that case, I’ll have the paperwork sent to Rhodes for you both to look over immediately. Once that’s squared away, I’d like you to start as soon as possible-- later this week if it can be managed.”

“I’m sure that won’t be a problem, sir.”

Stane holds a hand out. “To the beginning of a great partnership, Stark.”

They shake hands, Tony forcing a smile. “Indeed.”

* * *

Two days later finds Tony back at the PI tower on a tour with Stane’s top assistant, having just the day before signed a mountain of paperwork that included the lengthiest NDA he’d ever seen-- and that was saying something considered some of the clientele he’d had in the past.

Pepper Potts is by far PI’s best asset, Tony thinks to himself as he follows her back toward the elevator bay. And not just because she’s beautiful, although she is. But more than that, she's smart-- Tony having been most impressed to find she was readily able to answer even his most technical questions as she walked him through the tower's various security measures. 

And he’d had quite a few of them, having never worked in a building where the security systems were run by an AI. Tony honestly wasn’t sure how he felt about it, but Ultron - a creation of Stane’s and not Richard Parker’s, as it turned out - seemed capable enough, all things considered.

As soon as they’re back in the elevator Pepper has him test out his new ID badge, swiping it across a chip reader-- Tony watching as the floor buttons for 99-104 turn from red to green. Pepper presses the button for 101.

“Your apartment is located on the same floor as Peter’s living quarters,” she says when they exit onto the floor-- motioning down the hall to a large set of heavy duty double doors.

“Peter’s living quarters?” Tony asks as they pass by. “Aren’t those the same as Stane’s?”

Pepper shakes her head. “Mr. Stane occupies the penthouse level on 104, while Peter lives by himself in the same suite he shared with his parents prior to their deaths. I believe he took over the master bedroom, but otherwise my understanding is that it’s fairly unchanged.”

“That’s rather unusual, isn’t it? A teenager living all alone like that?”

“There was a nanny that looked after him those first few years after his parents passed, but she’s been gone now for some time,” Pepper explains, before adding, “Also he’s not really alone, is he? You’re right down the hall. Speaking of…”

She beckons him to follow her, coming to a stop at a single door, Tony using his card once more to swipe it open. 

“This is your apartment,” Pepper says. “It was originally designed as an in-law suite for Mrs. Parker’s mother, and includes a kitchen and small living room.”

Tony looks around the main room before sneaking a peek into the bedroom. The place is modestly but tastefully decorated, with a strangely homey feel despite the views of skyscrapers all around them. Overall, the suite doesn’t have too much personality but for various Mets memorabilia displayed throughout. Mrs. Parker’s mother must have been quite the baseball fanatic, Tony thinks.

“Did you know them?” Tony asks as he enters back into the living room where Pepper waits for him patiently. “The Parkers, I mean.”

Pepper shakes her head. “No, I was hired after their deaths. But from what I’ve heard they were lovely people to work with and for.”

Tony hums. “And Peter? What’s he like?”

Pepper looks away, smiling fondly as if recalling a happy memory. “He’s a good kid. Incredibly smart-- too smart for his own good, sometimes. But very kind and friendly. You’ll like him.”

“Sounds like it,” Tony says, genuinely hoping that's the case. Jobs were always easier when you got along with the principal.

Pepper looks back to her tablet-- seeming to read down a list. “Oh yes, day-to-day expectations. You will escort Peter as his PPO everywhere he goes that is off-premises. On a typical weekday that will only be to school and home again. You will have the hours in between to yourself. On weekends there’s often academic events - Peter is on the decathlon team - which you will be expected to attend and provide close protection, along with various preparatory activities as Mr. Stane has planned.”

“Preparatory activities?”

“Galas and other business-related events,” Pepper explains, and when Tony continues to look lost, adds, “Mr. Stane wants Peter to be as ready as possible for when he eventually takes over the company.”

“And when will that be?”

“His twenty-first birthday, when he reaches the custodial age of majority.”

“The kid’s whole life really is mapped out for him, damn,” Tony remarks, then, “What about friends? Should I be expecting to attend any raucous high school parties?”

Pepper’s smile turns forced, lips thinning slightly. “I’m afraid Peter doesn’t get out too much with kids his own age. Mr. Stane prefers to keep him close by, for his safety.”

“I bet the kid loves that,” Tony mutters to himself.

Pepper grimaces slightly. “Alright Mr. Stark, if you don’t have any more questions, I’ll let you settle in for now. I’ll have your things sent up shortly for you to unpack, and Ultron will let you know when Happy is leaving to get Peter from school later today-- should be around 3:30.”

“Happy?”

“Peter’s driver.”

“Ah. Well, I look forward to meeting them both,” Tony says as he walks right up to Pepper and shakes her hand. “Thank you for the tour, Miss Potts. And if I may be so bold-- a woman as vivacious and knowledgeable as yourself? Could do much better than being a CEO’s assistant.”

Pepper smirks, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, I am very aware, Mr. Stark. As is Mr. Stane-- I’ll be overseeing the PR department starting in April.”

Tony nods, smiling appreciatively. “Well, I’ve only spent an hour with you and it’s already remarkably clear that you deserve the promotion.”

Pepper blushes, Tony’s grin widening at the sight. 

She quickly schools her expression, sounding perfectly professional when she says, “If that will be all, I’ll be taking my leave.” She walks over to the door, before turning back around, looking serious again. “One last thing… Peter’s last two PPOs quit after only a few weeks. He’s a good kid but things haven’t always been easy for him, and after what happened this summer…”

Pepper trails off, waving a hand. “Well, just know that it might take some time for him to warm up to you.”

“Thank you for letting me know, but I’m sure we’ll get on just fine,” Tony replies, then, flirtatiously, “I win everyone over eventually. Must be the natural charm.”

Pepper shakes her head, a corner of her lip upturning. “Whatever you say, Mr. Stark. If you need anything, just ask Ultron to contact me and I’ll be in touch as soon as I’m available. But please-- don’t abuse the privilege.”

“Talking with you is indeed a privilege, Miss Potts.”

With a playful smile and the tiniest of eye rolls Pepper departs, leaving nothing but the lingering scent of her perfume and Tony’s brand-new yet blazing crush in her wake. 

* * *

“Happy must be an ironic nickname then, eh?” Tony asks, trying for the umpteenth time to get Hogan to crack a smile as he sits in the front passenger seat of the man’s car on their way to Peter’s school.

“Wouldn’t know, the kid came up with it,” Hogan replies shortly, Tony sighing and going back to looking out at the busy streets of Manhattan.

Upon Tony’s arrival to the tower’s private parking garage, the man had simply looked him up and down, said “get in” and barely done more than grunt at him since. But that was okay-- Tony knew he’d wear him down eventually. Or at least he hoped so, because otherwise hanging around a big grump all the time was going to get old real fast. 

He’s quiet for the rest of the drive besides asking once if they could turn on some rock music, to which he’d gotten a very gruff “no.”

Maybe Pepper had it backwards before, Tony thinks. Maybe _Happy_ was why the other two PPOs quit, and not the kid.

When they pull up to the school there’s nobody waiting outside-- classes having finished up some time ago, Peter staying late for decathlon practice.

But not thirty seconds after they park the main door cracks open. Tony watches as a head of wavy brown hair peeks out and looks around before Peter Parker emerges-- Tony immediately struck by the rather sad expression on his face as he heads toward the car, opening the back passenger door and sliding in.

“Hey Happy,” the kid says kindly enough, “how are-- wait, who are you?”

Tony twists around in his seat, grinning at Peter as he thrusts out an arm through the partition opening separating the front and back seats. “Hey Pete. I’m Tony Stark, your new PPO, which makes _you_ my VIP. How does that sound?”

Peter stares at him for a few seconds before looking down at his outstretched hand and back up to his face, scowling. “It’s Peter, not Pete. _Never_ Pete.”

“Ah, my bad,” Tony says congenially. “Didn’t mean to offend.”

“Whatever,” Peter grumbles as he slumps back in his seat, studiously ignoring Tony’s arm still hanging in the air as he stares out his window, looking sullen. “Can we go now please, Happy?”

With a deep sigh Tony lowers his arm, twisting back to face forward-- not missing the hint of a smirk on Hogan’s face before he schools it back to the same vaguely annoyed expression he’d been wearing since he caught sight of Tony not an hour earlier.

“So how was decathlon practice, kid?” Tony asks after a few minutes of silence. “You must be pretty smart, to make it on--”

_Click._

Tony turns to see the opaque partition window has been rolled up, frowning when he hears a small chuckle escape Hogan. 

Tony points a thumb back. “Is he always this friendly?”

Hogan just shrugs, before twisting one of the main console buttons-- the croonings of Hank Williams immediately assaulting Tony’s ears.

“Hey uh, not to be rude but, think we could maybe listen to something else?”

“Nope.”

With a sigh Tony sits back in his seat, closing his eyes-- telling himself that whether sooner or later, he’d get Peter to come around. 

He’s just a fifteen year-old kid, after all. 

How hard could it be?


	2. Chapter 2

As it turned out, getting a 15 year-old to like you wasn’t quite as easy as Tony imagined it would be.

However, as the weeks wore on and fall faded into winter, it became clear that Peter wasn’t trying to be rude to Tony, not exactly. He listened to everything Tony told him to do without complaint, whether it was a hand on the shoulder leading him to the back of a building to avoid being seen, or being reminded to go back upstairs and put on his GPS watch before they left for Midtown in the mornings. 

But unlike all the other kids and even a few adults whose detail Tony had been on before, Peter asked no questions about Tony’s expertise-- not about how he hid the weapons he carried on his person, nor the advanced hand-to-hand combat training he’d had, nor the various surveillance tech he used. 

All of that could be chalked up easily enough to Peter having had a lifetime of PPOs trailing after him, but the lack of interest in Tony’s personal life-- well, that was more of a conundrum. Had the kid treated everyone with the same disregard he treated Tony, then it’d be easy to brush off. But Peter had seemingly endless interest in the lives and well-being of the adults he spent the most time with.

For one, he clearly adored Happy-- asking the man a mountain of questions on their daily car rides about things like how his mom’s old cat was faring, or how the other guys at his boxing gym were doing, or if Happy had finished the third season of Downton Abbey yet. 

Similarly Peter adored Pepper, never hesitating to give her a tight hug when they crossed paths in the tower garage in the mornings, his smile big and genuine every time she called him “kiddo” or asked after his studies. 

Over time Tony gleaned that the two adults were what made up Peter’s family these days-- Happy eating dinner with the kid at least one night a week in his large suite, and Pepper popping in to Peter’s decathlon competitions whenever she could manage to fit it into her busy schedule.

As for friends at school, the kid did have a few, although none he seemed particularly close to. There was a boy named Ned that Tony caught Peter excitedly discussing Star Wars with in between decathlon rounds, and another named Michelle that Tony couldn’t help but notice watched Peter almost as closely as Tony himself did. It was obvious to Tony she had a crush on Peter, though the kid seemed oblivious-- smitten instead with the team captain, an older girl named Liz. Tony thinks Peter would probably have already asked her out on a date had it not required Stane’s permission to orchestrate.

Then there was Harry Osborn, heir to Oscorp and a sullen boy who carried an obvious chip on his shoulder for reasons that Tony couldn’t untangle and didn’t really care to. Why Peter remained the boy’s friend Tony couldn’t possibly fathom at first, besides the fact that Stane didn’t allow Peter to visit any other friends’ homes outside of the Osborn mansion, citing the various security issues and unknowns. 

Tony understood the decision, though personally he could do without running into Harry’s PPO, fellow army veteran Maya Hansen. She was an old flame of Tony’s who he wasn’t too cowardly to admit had rightfully earned the chip on _her_ shoulder that flared up every time she so much as laid eyes on him.

Turns out ghosting someone - as the kids called it - was a dick move and not easily forgiven. Tony wished he’d been mature enough to realize that a decade ago, but in any case it was far too late now.

As for Peter’s goodwill toward Harry, over time Tony realized it probably had to do with the two teens having far more in common with each other than their peers. After all, both were motherless only children set to inherit billions, yet whose father figures hardly seemed to notice them despite having already decided their futures.

Which brought Tony to the biggest mystery of all: the nuances of Peter’s relationship with Stane. He’d heard Peter call the man “Uncle Obie” - a designation that connoted some sort of mutual affection - but otherwise there were no outward indications that Stane truly cared for his ward that Tony could see, outside of keeping the boy alive and healthy. 

Stane didn’t come to any academic events, and Peter never mentioned seeing him in his daily car-ride conversations with Happy. As far as Tony was aware, the only time the two had interacted between October and the end of the year was at the PI holiday gala, when Stane had paraded Peter around to various stakeholders like some sort of show pony. 

Stane’s seeming indifference toward Peter bothered Tony more than he wanted to admit, which was unusual for him-- he was typically very good at staying neutral about the personal lives of his clients. Maybe it was because Peter was just a kid, but Tony hated the fact that the man who had been entrusted by Peter’s parents to raise him as his own seemed to only care for the boy when it served him.

But if Peter held a grudge over it, he kept it well-hidden-- never saying a bad thing about Stane to anyone that Tony overheard.

All in all, Tony had to hand it to Pepper-- she had been right. Peter was, from everything Tony could tell, a truly good kid. 

Yet when it came to Tony himself, Peter remained stubbornly quiet and reserved, if pleasant enough to not be misconstrued as deliberately rude. Tony couldn’t tell if it was complete disinterest or if Peter was forcing himself to hold back his curiosity-- not missing the way the kid’s gaze sometimes lingered on him when he thought Tony wasn’t looking.

Yet he never voiced anything to Tony that could possibly be seen as a friendly overture, and by the time the end of January rolled around - three months into his six month contract - Tony had resigned himself to the fact that he and Peter would probably never be close.

Not that it should matter, as Tony reminded himself over and over. His job was to protect the kid, not be his friend. 

But thinking of the downcast look on Peter’s face as he’d walked to the car that first day - the air of not just loss but _loneliness_ that he so clearly carried on his shoulders when he thought nobody was watching - Tony couldn’t help but think that maybe this kid needed a different type of protection, one that no mere bodyguard could give.

* * *

It’s early February when Tony decides to wander down into the bowels of the tower. The blueprints of the building list the sub-basements as being used primarily for storage of old tech and experiments, and as Tony investigates that’s all he finds-- boxes ranging from the size of a carton of eggs to taking up entire rooms, all of them labeled with a classified number system to keep their contents unidentifiable.

It’s not until he’s on the utilities maintenance floor that he comes across it-- a room with a door labeled NO ENTRY WITHOUT AUTHORIZATION. 

However, to Tony’s immediate interest the door is propped open-- an odd blue glow emitting through the crack.

Tony doubts he has proper “authorization” but his curiosity is now well-piqued, and with a last glance around to make sure he’s alone, he slips inside.

The last thing he expects is to find Peter, standing on a platform in front of a large control panel and staring through thick glass into a large, donut-shaped machine.

The kid must not have noticed him enter, because he doesn’t glance over-- seemingly entranced, a look of thoughtful wonder on his face as he continues to stare past the machine’s thick casing, the soft blue glow from within lighting up his features.

Tony smiles to himself as he walks forward, thinking how the look on Peter’s face is one he hasn’t seen before and yet is grateful to witness now.

“I didn’t know PI had an arc reactor in its basement,” Tony says just as he starts to climb up the platform steps, Peter twisting to face him with wide eyes-- glancing at the door once as if to check for anyone else before looking back at Tony.

“You, uh-- you shouldn’t be in here.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “That’s probably true, but from the deer in the headlights look you’re sporting right now I’m going to guess I’m not the only one.”

Peter’s lips thin, but he doesn’t argue as Tony climbs up the rest of the steps, coming to stand only a foot away from the teen as he looks over the control panel.

“How’d you know it was an arc reactor?” Peter asks.

Tony shrugs. “I read your dad’s paper when I was at MIT that outlined theoretical ways to provide endless renewable energy, including the reactor. I had no idea he actually built one though.”

“You went to MIT?”

“Yup. Didn’t quite make it to graduation though.”

“Why not?”

“I liked to party more than I liked showing up for classes. Turns out that’s not exactly conducive to getting a degree.”

Peter snorts at that, Tony’s lips quirking as he turns to look at the teen. “So tell me more about the reactor. Is it just for show or does it serve a purpose?”

Peter makes a face. “Of course it’s not just for show. It powers the entire building.’

Tony lets out an impressed hum, looking back into the machine with narrowed, observing eyes. They stand in silence for another minute or two, just staring into the glow-- listening to the gentle _whirr_ of the machine.

Finally Tony turns to look at Peter again, asking, “So what are you doing down here, kid?”

Peter shrugs. “It’s quiet down here, plus it’s one place where I can be truly alone,” then looking at Tony with narrowed eyes, adds, “or I thought I could be.” 

Tony puts his hands up. “Hey, you just say the word and I’ll go. You were here first, and that gives you dibs as far as I’m concerned.”

Peter stares at him for a few moments before shrugging again. “Nah, you can stay if you want.”

Tony smiles. It doesn’t escape him that this is the longest conversation he and Peter have ever had. He thinks about remarking on that but before he can Peter speaks again.

“Did you know that PI was originally a green tech company? But after leaving Oscorp my dad couldn’t really get any funding. Then Uncle Obie came along and convinced him to take his investment in the company in exchange for coming onboard to handle the business deals. He was the reason we pivoted to weapons systems manufacturing.”

Tony’s eyebrows furrow, considering Peter’s words before asking, “And do you want to go back to green tech? A rebrand, perhaps?”

Peter just shrugs again, saying nothing-- though it’s obvious by the look on his face that he does. 

Tony thinks about pressing the topic but decides against it, saying instead, “You know what would be cool? Building a bunch of these just like your dad talked about in his paper. Just imagine, PI giving renewable energy to the entire world. You could completely reinvent the company, and really help a lot of people in the process.”

Peter looks up at him with a soft smile before glancing away, his lips twisting. “Uncle Obie will never let that happen though. Even letting my dad make this one was a fight, because of the expenses. He’s always saying that if there’s not a profit to be made, then it’s not worth it.”

“No offense to Mr. Stane, kid, but I’m pretty sure once you turn twenty-one you’ll be in charge-- and then you can tell him to go to hell if you want.”

Peter’s eyes go wide, glancing around nervously again before saying, “I dunno. Uncle Obie’s been really good to me, y’know?”

 _I don’t actually know,_ Tony almost replies. As far as he can tell, Stane doesn’t give two shits about Peter. But he bites his tongue, just nodding and going back to looking at the arc reactor-- marveling in its beauty.

“Just don’t let him walk all over you when you take the helm, okay? Just because he’s been in charge for so long doesn't mean he knows everything, and besides-- you deserve better than that.”

Peter glances up at him again, eyes large and expression vulnerable when he softly asks, “You really think so?”

Tony quirks an eyebrow, smiling even as he nods firmly. “Yeah kid, I really do.”

* * *

Three nights later and Tony’s back in the cave, on his knees in front of a bucket of water. Before him stands Yinsen, smiling through bloody teeth - a result of the giant hole in his chest - as he orders yet again for Tony to be held down.

Tony is about to pass out when the pressure recedes and he comes back up gasping for air, vision blurry. “Stop-- stop, please! Have mercy, please!”

Yinsen leans down, eyeing Tony curiously. “What makes you think you deserve mercy, Stark? Why would you, after you left me to drown to death in my own blood when I helped you build the suit that saved your life. Why should I die while you get to keep breathing, hmm?”

“It wasn’t like that, it wasn’t--”

“Again.”

Before Tony can say anything more he’s taken by his scruff and forced back down into the water, his head dipped below the surface until his lungs start to scream for air. But no matter how much he tries to buck up against his captors he can’t move, unable to do more than thrash about ineffectively. 

_This is it,_ he thinks. _Oh god, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry--_

“Mr. Stark?”

Tony awakes with a gasp, tangled in his bedsheets. His clothes are damp with sweat, and he immediately feels a bit nauseous-- wondering if he’d overdone it on the beers he’d downed before going to bed. Clearly they hadn’t done their job to chase away any nightmares, if the lingering fear in his mind is any indication.

He lays in the dark, just breathing for a few moments when the voice he’d thought was just in his imagination calls his name again, startling him.

“Who’s there?” he says threateningly, turning on his lamp with one hand as with the other he grabs for the small handgun he keeps hidden behind the bed. Seeing nobody, he calls out, “Show yourself!”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible, sir,” the distinctly female voice says kindly, “seeing as I have no body.”

Tony’s mouth opens and closes over and over like a fish before he finally relaxes, setting the gun down. “You’re-- another AI? But Ultron--”

“Ultron is the only official AI in this building,” the new AI explains cheerfully. “My name is Karen, and I am Peter’s AI. He is asking that you come to his quarters at once.”

“He’s-- what?” Tony picks up his phone, glancing at the time. “He wants me to go to his apartment at two-thirty on a Saturday morning? What for?”

“That is for Peter to share, I think. Now, please, if you would be so kind as to head over. I can direct you.”

“I think I know the way down the hall, thanks,” Tony remarks as he climbs out of bed, hastily putting pants on and stopping only long enough to brush his teeth - not wanting the kid to catch the stench of stale alcohol on his breath - before heading out of his apartment and over to Peter’s suite. He knocks once only for the door to open of its own accord, Tony stepping inside and expecting to see Peter, but the entryway is empty.

“Peter?” he calls out.

“Down the hall to the left, second bedroom on the right,” Karen replies instead, Tony’s brow furrowing even as he obeys the directions. 

When he opens the door of the second bedroom he finds it just as lacking in other humans as the rest of the place, taking a moment to look around. The room is quite large, with a beautiful view of Manhattan. Tony walks over to the desk, seeing a laptop there next to homework with Peter’s name on it. Tony glances around again, expecting to see some other evidence that this is a teenage boy’s bedroom-- but there isn’t any, just bare light blue walls and a large king-size bed covered in a plain red comforter. 

“Peter?” he calls out for the second time.

“If I may direct you to the bookshelf,” Karen replies once more, Tony sighing as he walks over-- seeing a photo of Peter when he couldn’t have been more than five, with a smiling man and woman Tony knows to be Richard and Mary Parker. There’s another next to it of an older Peter - probably ten or so - with a man Tony doesn’t recognize. Both of them have giant grins on their faces, and the man has an arm affectionately wrapped around Peter’s shoulders. Probably an uncle or cousin or some other family, Tony supposes. Before he can dwell on it any longer, Karen speaks up again. 

“Now, please tug on - but do not remove - _Peter Pan_ on the second shelf, _The Art of Chess_ on the bottom shelf, and _Advanced Robotics_ on the top shelf, in that order,” the AI instructs, Tony shaking his head bemusedly.

“You better not be pranking me, kid,” he says loudly, following her instructions anyway. 

As soon as he tugs on the third book, the shelf suddenly shifts-- the back of it releasing from where it’s securely attached to the wall and smoothly opening to reveal a reinforced door hidden behind.

“Holy shit,” Tony says as the second door releases, Tony stepping inside to see what looks for all intents and purposes to be a large lab. “Holy _shit.”_

Glancing around, Tony spots all sorts of advanced tech interspersed with other gadgets that look fairly rudimentary-- as though they were put together using spare parts and pieces taken straight from a dumpster.

Beyond the equipment, the walls are covered with movie posters-- _Star Wars, Ghostbusters_ and _Alien_ among them.

He’s so distracted taking in the place that he doesn’t notice Peter until the kid calls out for him-- Peter, who is leaning over a table awkwardly, looking embarrassed.

“Hey kid,” Tony says, walking over. “What in the world is this--”

“Uh, could you grab that knife over there and cut me out, please?” Peter interrupts him, motioning with his head to a nearby lab bench.

Tony glances over, eyes locating the small utility knife before taking a closer look at Peter’s hands-- seeing them covered in some sort of odd gooey-looking substance and stuck fast to the table below.

“Oh, yeah, no problem,” Tony says quickly, grabbing up the tool before coming over and very carefully slicing through the substance, so as not to accidentally cut Peter’s fingers. 

It takes a few minutes to free both of Peter’s hands but as soon as the second one is released Peter leans back up, rubbing at his fingers and smiling. “Thanks, Mr. Stark. This current formula takes thirty-six hours to dissolve, and I couldn’t exactly stay in here that long without Uncle Obie launching an international search and rescue, y’know?”

“Kid. What is all this?” Tony asks, still gob-smacked by the lab.

Peter looks back down at the substance, frowning. “It’s a sterile medical adhesive I’ve been working on the last few months. I was messing with some of the chemical levels tonight and I forgot to account for the formula’s rapid drying time, and then I slipped and tried to steady myself on the bench and my hands landed right in the stuff, and--”

“No, not that. I mean, what is all” - Tony waves about the room - _“this?”_

“Oh, yeah, duh,” Peter says with a smile, shaking his head at himself. “This is my personal lab-- or well, my dad’s personal lab, but I’ve been using it since he died. It’s where I go to work on all the tech that PI is going to make once I’m leading the company.”

Tony raises his eyebrows. “I had no idea this was even here. It’s not on any of the blueprints.”

Peter smirks. “Yeah, that’s kind of the whole idea. To keep it a secret from, well, everyone, basically.”

Tony cocks his head. “You mean Stane, I’m assuming?”

Peter shrugs. “I mean, yeah. Like I told you in the basement-- Uncle Obie doesn’t approve of me doing these kinds of things. Which is why he doesn’t know about _any_ of my ideas about what I want to do with PI someday.”

“Ah, that’s why you got so cagey down in the reactor room then, is it?”

Peter shrugs again, Tony nodding in understanding before continuing, “So, Karen, huh? I take it she’s also something Stane wouldn’t approve of.”

Peter winces. “Promise you won’t tell?”

“Of course, kid,” Tony replies with a conspiratorial smile. “I’m just trying to figure out how in the world you managed to program an AI that can stay under Ultron’s radar.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Ulton _seems_ really cool and advanced, but it’s not actually that great of a code. It only took me three days to hack him and install a backdoor for Karen.”

Tony lets out an impressed whistle. “Damn kid, I knew you were a genius but-- that’s incredible.”

Peter smiles, cheeks going red. “I dunno.”

“Well, take it from this MIT dropout,” Tony says, putting a hand on Peter’s shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. “You’re a damn marvel, Peter. I can’t wait to see what you do when you run this place. You’re going to change the world one day, I know it.”

“I dunno,” Peter says sheepishly again, but his eyes are shining from the praise. “It’s cool I guess, but not nearly as cool as that Iron Man suit you made.”

“Why, kid, I’m truly touched. And here I thought you just didn’t like me.”

Peter’s smile drops. “That’s not-- it wasn’t-- I didn’t mean--”

Tony laughs, taking pity. “It’s alright, you don’t have to explain. Though I do have to ask, why me? I’m assuming that AI of yours could have called Happy and had him drive over, or even Pepper.”

Peter shrugs, looking fairly uncertain-- as if he still wasn’t sure he’d made the right choice. “Well, after what you said in the arc reactor room, I just thought-- maybe… I could trust you.” 

Peter glances at him then, seemingly still guarded even as there’s a hint of a plea in his voice when he adds, “I _can_ trust you, right? You won’t tell Unc-- you won’t tell anyone? About my dad’s lab or Karen or anything?”

Tony puts a hand out. “You’ve got my word, kid.”

Tentatively Peter raises his arm, taking Tony’s hand and shaking it. They stand there for a few more seconds in awkward silence before Peter motions to the adhesive’s remnants. “I should probably clean this up and go to bed.”

“Yeah, of course,” Tony replies, walking over to the door. He’s about to exit when he turns around, asking, “What do you say we grab lunch together tomorrow? My friend Rhodey usually has a burger from this fantastic spot called Delmar’s delivered on Saturday afternoons-- I could put in an order for two.”

Peter bites his lip. “Uncle Obie doesn’t really like me eating junk food.”

Tony raises an eyebrow at him. “Kid, you’re developing secret tech in a hidden lab right under Stane’s _literal_ nose, and you’re worried about him catching you eating a beef patty and some fries? Besides, burgers aren’t junk food-- they’re an American Institution.”

Peter laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, when you put it like that… okay.”

Tony gives him a wide grin. “Great, I’ll see you around one then?”

“Sounds good. Goodnight, Mr. Stark.”

“Night, Pete.”

It’s only later when Tony is in bed that he realizes-- for the first time in three months, Peter didn’t correct the nickname.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left a kudos or comment! Y'all are AMAZING and I appreciate the support so so much <3 <3 <3

In the week following that first visit to Peter’s lab, Tony gets three more summons from Karen, all on the pretense of Peter wanting Tony’s opinion on whatever he’s working on that evening. But it doesn’t take long for Tony to determine that all of Peter’s questions are ones he already knows the answer to, which means - Tony sadly realizes after returning back to his apartment following his fifth visit - that Peter is probably just looking for company. 

And what kind of jerk would Tony have to be to deny the kid that?

At his urging, the Saturday afternoon Delmar’s lunch becomes a weekly fixture-- not that it takes much pushing, since just like every other meat-eating person Tony knows, Peter can’t resist the best burgers on the planet. 

Between the lunches and lab hangouts, Tony quickly figures out that Peter thrives on praise, and considering the kid is a thoughtful genius who is quietly bucking the system he lives under, it’s not hard for Tony to tell him often just how awesome he is. 

In turn, Peter opens up more about his ideas and dreams for the company, and by the beginning of March, Tony is in the lab with the kid in the evenings almost as often as he’s in his own quarters. Together they work on Peter’s medical adhesive until it’s more or less perfected-- though Tony is adamant that Peter _not_ give himself so much as a papercut to test the substance, to Peter’s begrudging chagrin.

It’s Tony who offers up the challenge of designing an arc reactor for mass production, Peter pulling up the specs for the one in the basement as the two of them toss around ideas. The only one that seems even remotely plausible - both for the sake of estimated cost and civilian safety - would be to shrink the reactor to a far smaller size that could power individual blocks or neighborhoods.

Tony doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the pride he felt when Peter presented him with a working prototype not even a week later, made to exacting standards from the notes they'd created together. Nor does he think he'll ever forget the next day when he had returned to the lab with a tiny glass case to place it in, having pilfered one from Peter's grandmother's signed baseball collection that was gathering dust in his apartment. 

_“Proof That Peter Parker Will Change the World,”_ Peter had read aloud from the wooden base-- Tony having meticulously hand-carved the declaration himself. Peter’s grin was larger than Tony had ever seen before when the kid looked up at him. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“Don't mention it, Pete,” Tony had replied with a fond smile, ruffling the kid's hair.

Yet despite all the time they spend together, to Tony's slight consternation Peter remains mostly the same toward him as he always was, if willing to ask Tony a few more questions about his job and - a topic Peter is curiously fixated on - what life is like in Queens. Likewise, Peter shuts down any time Tony tries to delve deeper into the kid’s personal life and past-- looking almost afraid to share anything beyond surface-level thoughts and feelings. 

In response, Tony does his best to respect Peter’s seemingly desperate desire to keep an emotional barrier between them-- even as it gets harder to ignore the increasingly concerned voice in his head telling him that what he really ought to do is take a sledgehammer to it.

* * *

Peter discovering his favorite Delmar’s combo is how Rhodey finally ends up putting things together, calling Tony on a weekend morning in mid-March.

“Tones, this is the third Saturday in a row you’ve called to request the addition of a number five combo with pickles,” Rhodey says. “All I'll say is that I better get to meet her soon, or there’s gonna be hell to pay.”

“Sorry to disappoint you platypus, but this is a decidedly platonic relationship,” Tony replies dryly. He nearly stops there but knowing how good Rhodey is at needling the truth out of him, he decides to bite the bullet, adding, “And not just because he’s fifteen and my principal.”

“The Parker kid?” Rhodey exclaims, then with an edge of confusion, “I thought he hated you.”

“I thought he did too, but uh-- things have been better, recently,” Tony says, trying to sound casual as he says, “I mean, I don’t have a clue what he sees in a washed-up war vet like me, but if he wants me around for company, I’m not going to say no.”

“And you’re sure that’s a good idea? I mean, he’s just a kid, Tony.”

Tony scoffs. “What? So I can’t be friendly with him just because he’s a kid?”

There’s silence on the other end for a few moments, before Rhodey quietly replies, “I’m not saying you can’t be friendly with him, but I’m also not an idiot, alright? Whether you want to admit it or not, I know how much you’ve grown to care about Peter. You’ve been complaining off and on about Stane’s treatment toward the kid for months. But caring about him doesn’t change the fact that it’s still a job at the end of a day, and moreover-- that he’s ultimately not _your_ responsibility.”

Tony bites the inside of his cheek. “Yeah, well, it’s kind of hard not to give a damn when the kid carries the scars of emotional neglect right on his sleeve. I mean, god, Rhodey-- Stane couldn't care less about him! What kind of man takes in an eight year-old kid and then barely pays attention to him for the next _seven years?”_

More silence, then, “Don’t take this the wrong way, Tones, but-- is this really about Stane and the kid? Or is it about Howard and you?”

Tony’s jaw clenches. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on, don’t play dumb with me,” Rhodey scoffs. “I’d have to be a seriously shitty best friend not to see the parallels here. Or are you really trying to tell me that you growing up in an isolated lake cabin with an emotionally distant alcoholic for a father has absolutely nothing to do with how invested you’ve become in Peter’s well-being?”

“At least my dad had better excuses, like being a grieving widower and an addict,” Tony spits back. “Unlike how I was, Peter’s a truly good kid and Stane’s goddamn lucky he’s his. But does the man care about that? Not even a little.”

“You were a good kid too, Tones. You didn’t deserve the way your dad treated you any more than Peter does.”

Tony doesn’t say anything, opting instead to bite the inside of his cheek again-- this time drawing blood. 

“Just,” Rhodey begins after a few moments, only to pause as if carefully considering his words. “Just-- be careful, okay? You know how things tend to go in our industry. You’re more than likely not going to be in Peter’s life forever, and besides-- Stane is the client, not the kid. He can give you the boot whenever he wants to, and neither of you will get a choice in the matter if it comes to that.”

“I’m well aware, believe me,” Tony says, even as he winces at the reminder. “It’s not like I'm aiming to sign adoption papers any time soon, alright? And anyway, going off how hard the kid works to keep me at arm’s length any time things get even remotely personal, I'm pretty sure Pete doesn’t want that either.”

“So it’s ‘Pete’ now, is it?,” Rhodey teases, though his voice turns serious once more when he continues, “I get it, Tones. But like I said-- watch yourself. If Stane is as controlling over Peter as you say he is, he’s not going to take kindly to you two getting close, even if it's just his perception and not reality.”

“I realize that, which is why he’s not exactly getting a daily progress report.” Tony pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, Rhodey, I know it’s a gamble on a more-than-likely losing game. But right now Pete needs someone to be there for him-- to be a day-to-day presence. And if he’s crazy enough to think I’m worthy of being that person, then I’m not going to let him down. At least, not while I have a say in it.”

“I hear you,” Rhodey finally replies, then, “and quit calling me about adding the number five combo with pickles, will you? I think I can remember the standing order just fine on my own.”

“You’re a saint for putting up with me, platypus,” Tony says with a smile-- recognizing this was Rhodey’s way of giving his tacit approval. 

“Saint is just a fancy word for a sucker,” Rhodey grumbles, Tony laughing. “But I’ll take the compliment anyway.”

* * *

Pepper texts Tony the first week of April: _Peter tells me you know where to get the best burger in the city. So when can I get in on this action?_

Which is how Tony ends up personally ordering Delmar’s for the two of them the next evening, bringing it up to Pepper’s office while she’s working late.

“How is it already seven?” Pepper says by way of greeting when Tony steps in, before giving him a fond smile and motioning to a small conference table. Tony sets down the bag, the two of them sitting down side-by-side as Pepper immediately opens it and takes a long whiff, humming her approval. “Oh my god, this smells _amazing._ I think I’m in love already.”

“And they say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” Tony quips, Pepper chuckling even as she digs right in with a voraciousness Tony can only be in awe of. He has to hand it to her-- Pepper Potts doesn’t do anything halfway, and that apparently includes inhaling greasy foods. For a few minutes there’s nothing but the sounds of the two of them eating.

“So how’s your new gig going?” Tony asks just as he swallows down the last of his burger.

Pepper sighs as she pushes her food away a few inches, smiling wearily. “It’s good, but it’s a lot. I keep telling myself that I’ll find a better balance once things settle down, but who knows when that will be. The sun never sets on PI’s empire, which means Public Relations never really gets a break either.”

“You’re only two weeks in, Pep,” Tony reassures her. “Even Natalie seemed a bit preoccupied when I saw her last and she’s only stepping into your _old_ position.”

“Nat is typically quite level-headed, but Mr. Stane can be very demanding,” Pepper replies. “I suppose that’s one aspect of my working life that has improved, all things considered.”

“See? You’ll figure things out,” Tony assures. “It always takes some time to find your groove at a new job.”

“You would know, wouldn't you?” Pepper remarks with a raised eyebrow. Seeing Tony’s curious expression, she adds, “Don’t think I’ve been too busy to notice how fond Peter has become of you, even compared to a few months ago. You’re all he talks about every time I see him. He thinks you’re a genius, just like his father was.”

Tony grimaces. “I don’t know about that. I had to drop out of MIT so I can’t be--”

“You dropped out of MIT because you were bored, not because you were a partier who couldn’t do the work,” Pepper interjects, waving a hand dismissively. 

“How’d you know that?” Tony asks, Pepper raising _both_ eyebrows now as she takes a bite from a fry. 

“Who do you think narrowed down the candidates for Mr. Stane? I had to do extensive background searches on everyone who was considered for Peter’s PPO,” Pepper says, chewing thoughtfully. “I know you claimed you didn’t need to attend class because you could ace all your tests without going-- which according to your files you did, many times. Yet they still wouldn’t let you test out of any of the required gen-eds.”

“Which is how you should recognize what an idiot I really am,” Tony grumbles, trying and failing to keep his tone neutral-- still angry at himself even over fifteen years later. “The administration gave me an ultimatum - shape up and attend classes or pack my bags - and I chose the latter because I was a stubborn punk who thought I was above it all. Some genius I am, throwing my best shot at a good life away and proving my old man right in one fell swoop.”

“You were barely twenty, Tony. Cut yourself some slack,” Pepper says, a sad smile on her face. “Besides, you’re not doing too bad for yourself, are you? You’re living in a state-of-the-art building in the middle of Manhattan, looking after the best kid in the world.”

“Peter deserves someone better than the likes of me looking after him,” Tony says, shaking his head and glancing away.

He’s so caught up in his self-recrimination that he doesn’t notice Pepper lean in toward him until he feels a soft palm land firmly over his wrist. He looks up to see her staring at him with a determined expression, a stark contrast to how gently she squeezes his hand.

“Don’t talk like that,” Pepper says, gazing hard at him. “You’ve achieved more with Peter than you can possibly know-- not because you’re a genius but because you’ve got a good heart, one that truly puts Peter first. So please, take my word for it. You’re exactly who Peter deserves, and don’t for a second think differently.”

For a few moments Tony is frozen, bowled over by the sincerity in Pepper’s eyes.

“You’re right, Miss Potta, and I am definitely grateful I get to live in a fancy building and look after Pete,” Tony finally says, “but you’re forgetting one other major perk.”

“Oh, and what’s that?”

Slowly Tony twists his hand underneath Pepper’s until their palms touch. “I also have the privilege of getting to have dinner with the most inspiring woman I’ve ever met. And if you’d grant me the honor, I’d like to do so again soon in a more formal setting. If you’re not too busy, that is.”

Pepper looks down as Tony lightly intertwines his fingers with hers-- hoping beyond hope she doesn’t pull away. 

To his immense relief she does exactly the opposite-- squeezing his hand back as with a flirtatious smile she looks back up at him. “I think I can fit you in, Mr. Stark.”

A few minutes later Tony is leaving Pepper’s office, a wide grin on his face and a feeling of warmth thrumming through his body at having made plans for their first official date-- finally knowing for certain after months of flirting that Pepper really does return his interest. 

He’s so distracted by his excitement as he steps into the elevator that he runs straight smack into someone who’s already in there-- having expected it to be empty at this late hour.

“What the hell?” Norman Osborn explodes just as Tony feels a hand on his arm-- turning to see a shorter, brown-haired man who can only be Osborn’s PPO firmly gripping him. 

“Watch it, buddy,” the PPO - someone Tony is unfamiliar with despite their shared field - says smoothly, guiding Tony to stand in the elevator on his other side so he’s between Tony and Osborn.

“God, is Obadiah running a circus around here or what?” Norman says petulantly, looking over at Tony only to do a double-take. “Wait, I know you. You’re the Parker brat’s latest bodyguard. I’ve seen you at the mansion.”

Tony feels a rush of anger at the word ‘brat’, barely able to contain a sneer as he says, “Yes sir, that’s correct.”

“Well, keep an eye on where you’re going next time,” Osborn says. “I’m not above threatening every single person involved with this miserable company to get what I want, even nobodies like you.”

Before Tony can formulate a reply the elevator opens on his and Peter’s floor. Tony carefully keeps his gaze trained straight ahead as he walks out, only to risk a glance back to see Norman staring down at this watch impatiently, probably having already forgotten the conversation. But the PPO has yet to take his eyes off Tony-- the two of them staring at one another until the doors close.

* * *

Sometime in late April Tony realizes he can’t remember the last time he made a beer run, not to mention he hadn't been waking up from his nightmares nearly as often. He tells himself the lack of his usual PTSD symptoms is from staying up later with the kid and the resulting exhaustion, even as part of him knows it’s not just that. 

It’s only when he really starts to think about it that he realizes that between hanging out with Peter and starting to date Pepper, he’s become, well, _content_ in a way he hadn’t been since before his capture-- maybe even far longer.

But whereas before the thought of actually being happy would have scared him-- Tony doesn’t want to run away from this. Because somehow, without Tony noticing, the list of people he would do anything for has expanded beyond just Rhodey. _Peter Parker_ is now listed there in bold, with _Pepper Potts_ and even _Happy Hogan_ \- the man’s gruff exterior just a front for his soft marshmallow soul, Tony has found after months of pestering the man - tentatively penciled in. 

Tony can’t remember the last time he was part of a family of more than two. Probably not since he was a young child and his mother was still alive, he supposes. 

He knows it's foolish to be hopeful, but part of him can't help but want to find out what it’s like.

* * *

It’s a few days into May, and Peter and Tony are working away when Karen pipes up.

“Pardon the interruption, but Mr. Stane has just entered the elevator from his penthouse. He is on his way to floor 101.”

Turning wide eyes on each other, Peter and Tony frantically start closing up the lab. 

“What’s Stane coming down here at ten in the evening for?” Tony asks as they enter into the kid’s bedroom, Peter pulling on the books until the shelf moves back into its regular spot.

Peter shrugs. “He comes around sometimes, but usually only for bad news. Otherwise I just get a memo from Ultron.”

“How thoughtful of him,” Tony mutters under his breath.

“I have Ultron programmed to tell him I’m watching TV if I’m in the lab,” Peter explains as they walk down the hallway, Peter motioning to the couch as he asks Karen to turn on the TV-- the AI doing so before softly saying goodnight.

Peter hops over the coffee table and lands on the couch just as Stane comes in from the entryway-- looking surprised to see them both there.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” he greets with one of his practiced smiles, before turning to Tony. “My apologies, I didn’t realize Peter had company. Ultron informed me he was by himself.”

“I was just leaving,” Tony says, standing up and walking toward the door only to be halted by Stane’s hand on his shoulder. 

“Actually, Stark, I think you should stay as this concerns you too, albeit indirectly,” Stane says, smile still plastered on. Carefully Tony nods, turning around to see Peter now also standing, having muted the TV with a remote.

“Hi, Uncle Obie. What’s-- what’s going on?”

“I’m afraid you won’t like this, my boy,” Stane says with a long sigh. “But I have to kindly demand that you no longer fraternize with Harold Osborn.”

“Harry?” Peter exclaims. “But-- why?”

“The _why_ is none of your concern,” Stane says. “You’ll just have to take my word that it’s in your best interest.”

“But-- but,” Peter says, shaking his head, “that’s not fair! Harry’s my closest friend. You can’t just tell me I can’t hang out with him anymore and not give me a reason!”

“Well, life isn’t fair, Peter,” Stane says with a laugh, turning to Tony as if for back-up only to narrow his eyes when he sees Tony staring at him, stone-faced. 

Sobering up, Stane looks back at Peter. “How’s this for a reason? That boy is the son of one of our biggest competitors, and while you may be learning more about the business-- you are still young and therefore careless. As a result, I can’t trust you not to share company secrets, even if only by accident.”

“But Harry and I never talk about PI or Oscorp!” Peter argues, voice rising. “I’ve never said anything to him, I swear! Please Uncle Obie, don’t-- don’t do this. _Please.”_

Stane just shakes his head forlornly, though it’s glaringly obvious to Tony that it's just for show. “I’m sorry Peter, but that’s my decision. You will not be visiting the Osborn boy again. That’s final.” 

Before Peter can reply, Stane turns to Tony. “Ultron will inform Hogan, but these orders apply to you too. Peter is not to go to the Osborn mansion from now on, do you understand?”

Tony glances at Peter, seeing a desperate hope in his eyes that Tony will stand up for him against Stane. Tony opens his mouth, about to do just that-- only to think of what Rhodey said back in March. 

If he’s not careful, Tony could be cut out of Peter’s life as easily as Harry Osborn is right now-- which would mean Peter losing not one but _two_ of the last people he has left. And that’s simply something Tony can’t allow to happen.

Tony turns to look at Stane, voice gruff as he says, “Yes sir, I understand.”

Peter’s bottom lip quivers as he looks down at the ground, a tense silence reigning among the three of them.

“Alright,” Stane finally says, turning to leave, “if that’s settled, I’ll be--”

“When I’m in charge, everything is gonna change. And you won't be able to do a damn thing about it!”

Stane and Tony both whip their heads around to look at Peter, who’s staring at Stane with a fierce expression, fists clenched at his sides and looking more determined than Tony has ever seen him before.

“What was that?” Stane asks softly. “I think I may have misheard you just now.”

“You heard me, Uncle Obie,” Peter says, looking unsure for a moment before he catches Tony’s gaze, Tony giving him a barely perceptible nod of encouragement. Peter steels himself as he takes another breath, continuing, “When I turn twenty-one I’m taking over the company, and then I'll be in charge whether you like it or not. And the first thing I’m going to do is stop making weapons. And _you_ won’t be able to stop me.”

“Is that true?” Stane says mildly, as if remarking on the weather, before shaking his head in disappointment, a condescending chuckle escaping him. “Oh, Peter, my dear naive boy. Have I taught you nothing? Don’t make threats that you can’t back up when push comes to shove.” Stane’s expression hardens. “Now stop acting like a child, or you may find my amusement can turn to displeasure far more quickly than you’re prepared for.”

“But I _can_ back it up, and I will,” Peter argues. “You can control me now, and laugh at how I’m just a kid or whatever. But eventually that’s all going to change, and-- we’ll see who’s laughing then.”

Before Stane can reply Peter rushes out of the room, disappearing down the hallway-- Tony hearing his bedroom door slam shut not five seconds later.

There’s tense silence again then, Tony trying hard not to grin at the surge of pride in his chest at seeing Peter finally stand up to Stane. 

After a few seconds Tony risks a glance at the man, just barely catching a glint of malice in his eyes before it’s replaced with his usual cool expression. 

“See what I have to deal with?” Stane says, smiling once more before it slides away. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of the boy, Stark, but-- there’s a more pressing reason I had to ban the boy from visits with the Osborn child.”

“What’s that?” Tony asks.

Stane sighs, motioning for Tony to follow him out. It’s not until they’re in the hallway - the door to Peter’s suite firmly closed - that Stane continues. “I’m afraid we’ve received multiple threats against Peter’s life. I am not at liberty to divulge details, but needless to say, I have reason to believe Norman Osborn is involved.”

Tony’s brow furrows in concern-- suddenly remembering the night he’d crossed paths with the man, and how Osborn had threatened _him_ for daring to accidentally bump chests with the pompous billionaire.

The man was clearly a bit unhinged-- so why the hell had Stane waited until now to tell Tony that he was threatening to hurt - no, to _kill_ \- Peter?

“With all due respect, sir,” Tony says as evenly as possible, “as Mr. Parker’s PPO, I feel I should stress that in order to do my job, it’s imperative I be made aware of all credible threats made against him.”

“I agree, which is why I’ve just informed you,” Stane replies smoothly. “Well, that and I have a request. One that relates directly to Peter’s safety.”

“If it’s for Peter, then consider it done,” Tony replies, his worry for the kid bleeding through more than he intended in his panic. He quickly schools himself, adding more neutrally, “What is the request, sir?”

Stane scrutinizes him, before nodding. “Considering the circumstances, I was wondering if you would be willing to accompany the boy out of the city for a few weeks. Just until I can gather some more evidence against whoever is behind these threats.”

“Of course,” Tony says, “where to?”

“Well that’s just it,” Stane says with a long sigh. “I would prefer it to be somewhere completely off PI’s beaten path, so to speak. Somewhere Osborn or anyone else won’t know to suspect. Do you know of a place you could take him? A safe house, or somewhere off-grid perhaps?”

Tony looks away, thinking. It only takes about ten seconds for the clear answer to hit him, Tony nearly dismissing out of his own personal distaste at the idea before reminding himself that this is about Peter, not him. 

Besides, it's not like he hasn't been meaning to make a final pilgrimage ever since he landed back in New York. After all, if he can fix the place up a little, then maybe he can finally manage to sell it and be done with his past for good. Decision made, Tony turns back to Stane.

“I know where we can go.”


	4. Chapter 4

By mid-morning the next day, everything for Tony and Peter’s trip had been arranged.

Tony had called Rhodey first thing to have one of the security company’s more nondescript vehicles dropped off at the tower before starting to make his way to the garage to meet Happy and Peter-- only for Ultron to step in and let him know that Stane had notified Midtown that the kid wouldn’t be back for at least a week.

At that point he’d pivoted toward Peter’s suite but the AI had again spoken up, telling Tony in his typical cold, emotionless way that he’d informed Peter about the plan and that the teen was in the process of printing off e-mailed homework assignments and putting together a bag. 

And so with a sigh, Tony had instead spent the next hour packing and double-checking his gear. Stane had specifically asked that neither Tony nor Peter take along anything that could possibly be tracked, and so reluctantly Tony had set aside all his various communication tech.

Well, nearly all his tech anyway-- Tony deciding at the last minute to pocket one of the burners he kept on hand, an old-school flip phone that had no contacts except Rhodey’s emergency cell number. After all, a little rebellious caution never hurt anyone.

Pepper had miraculously been able to make time for a quick brunch with him, and after finishing packing Tony had taken the chance to grab egg sandwiches and some fruit from the tower’s employee cafeteria before taking it up to her office, the two of them settling into what had quickly become their regular dining seats at her conference table.

“A week off-grid? Why?” Pepper asks after Tony explains about the impromptu trip.

“Stane just thinks it’d be good for Peter to get out of town for a while,” Tony says as casually as he can, only to sigh when Pepper continues to stare at him with narrow eyes. 

“A casual trip, huh? Besides the caveat that there will be no way for you or Peter to contact him, or me, or anyone else,” she remarks skeptically, raising an eyebrow. “Out with it, Tony. What aren’t you telling me?”

Tony sets down what’s left of his sandwich, considering her for a moment. Finally he says, “Look, I didn’t want you to worry, but-- there’s been some threats made against the kid, ones that Stane says are credible. So the two of us agreed that it’d be good to get Peter out of the city until he can figure out who’s behind it all.”

He had expected immediate concern, but instead Pepper forlornly shakes her head, staring down at her hands. “I always wondered if they’d come back.”

Tony’s eyebrows furrow. “Come back? Who?”

Pepper glances up at him with a curious expression. “Whoever was behind the attempt this past summer, of course.”

Tony’s eyes go wide. “The attempt? On what? Peter’s _life?_ ”

“The attempted kidnapping,” Pepper says flatly, only for her jaw to fall a bit when Tony just continues to stare. “Obadiah didn’t tell you? It was all kept very quiet, but considering your position as Peter’s PPO and who he lost, I figured he’d at least make sure _you_ knew about--”

“Mr. Stark,” Ultron interrupted them, “your presence has been requested immediately down in the garage by Mr. Stane. You are to leave with Peter momentarily.”

Tony turns back to Pepper to demand she explain, only for the woman to minutely shake her head as she glances at the ceiling.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you when you get back,” she says with a smile as she stands up-- Tony not missing the underlying meaning. _I’ll tell you everything later, but not here. Not now._

The parts of Tony that are both concerned for Peter and angry about being kept out of the loop want nothing more than to press for more information, but logic wins out in the end.

“I’ll miss you, Pep,” he says as he gives her a hug, Pepper leaning in for a tender kiss.

“I’ll miss you too,” she says softly, giving him one last peck before pulling away. “Though frankly, I don’t think it’s a bad idea for _both_ you and Peter to have a chance to just relax for a while.”

“The kid might relax but I sure as hell won’t, not with where we’re going,” Tony says, Pepper raising a quizzical eyebrow in response. 

“You’re going to tell me about what that means when you get back,” Pepper says firmly, a hint of concern in her eyes. “But for now-- take care of yourself, Tony. And Peter.”

“I will,” he promises, only to smile softly as he shares one last fond look with her before disappearing out the door.

* * *

Tony emerges from the elevator - duffles of personal belongings and gear in hand - to see Stane kneeling in front of the car Rhodey had dropped off-- Tony relieved to see it’s just a plain Corolla.

The man whips his head around just as Tony catches sight of him, standing up and rubbing his hands together.

“Just checking the tire pressure for you,” he says goodnaturedly as Tony walks up to him, tossing him the keys which Tony easily catches. “Don’t want you two having a blow-out on some empty highway somewhere.”

“Thanks,” Tony mutters-- the earlier anger he’d felt in Pepper’s office coming back to the forefront of his mind. He wants so badly to call the man out on having kept Tony in the dark about whatever had happened in the summer, and it’s just on the tip of his tongue to do so when the elevator doors open again to reveal Peter.

The kid glances up at the both of them with a particularly petulant expression before zeroing in on the car, walking swiftly past the two men and going to open the backseat. 

He tosses his bag in before shutting the door and finally turning to them, saying, “Well? Are we leaving now?”

His cold tone reminds Tony of the first few weeks he’d known the kid, the man’s brow furrowing. 

“Yeah, kid, we were just waiting for you,” he responds, then with a smile, “Sure hope you packed some good hiking boots, ‘cause I bet you’ll want them.”

Peter narrows his eyes at Tony. “Considering nobody actually _told_ me where we’re going, I can’t say I did.”

“Something we have in common then, as I’ve no idea where you’re heading either,” Stane says, before raising his arms in Peter’s direction. “Come here, my boy. Time to give your uncle a goodbye hug. This will be our last meeting for a while.”

If the implications of the expression weren’t so depressing, Tony would have laughed at the disbelieving look Peter gives Stane then, standing there dumbly for a few moments before stumbling forward as if against his will-- Stane pulling him in and giving him a firm hug, complete with some pats on the back.

Tony doesn’t miss the way the tension never quite leaves Peter’s body, the kid clearly not used to such displays of affection from his guardian.

Part of Tony wants to be glad that Stane is apparently at least trying to show Peter some real care, but the confused look on the kid’s face as they pull away from each other has Tony’s long-held annoyance with the man’s disregard for the teen flaring up instead.

It’s too little, too late, and while there’s a chance that these death threats truly had Stane turning an emotional corner where Peter was concerned, Tony can’t help but remain protectively skeptical-- especially now he knew about the attempted kidnapping.

Tony sighs as he watches Peter walk around the car and climb into the front passenger seat. It was going to be torture waiting until he could get the full story from Pepper. God knows he wasn’t going to ask Peter about it, and risk kicking up the dirt of the kid’s past traumas.

Tony walks over to the backseat, opening the door and sliding his duffles in next to Peter’s before shutting the door and turning back to Stane, who is considering him carefully.

“Guard the boy with your life, Stark,” he says, holding out his hand. Tony shakes it, giving the man a nod but saying nothing as he climbs into the driver’s seat and turns to Peter-- only to frown when he sees the kid has a pair of headphones in, an old CD player resting in his lap.

“Well, this is going to be a fun bonding experience,” Tony snarks, but if Peter hears him he doesn’t show it, just leans his head back and closes his eyes as Tony pulls out of the parking spot.

The last thing he sees in the rearview mirror just before the garage door closes behind them is Stane standing with his hands on his hips, watching them leave with an unreadable expression on his face.

* * *

They’re four hours into their trip when Tony finally cracks. 

The kid hadn’t hardly done more than grunt at him since they left, barely acknowledging Tony when he’d pulled into a gas station and asked if the kid wanted anything-- ultimately buying him a packaged tuna salad sandwich for lunch which Peter had made a face at but ate without comment, headphones in all the while.

Tony isn’t sure where the attitude is coming from but he does know he can’t handle a full week of it, not when it would be just the two of them and _especially_ considering where they were going. 

The last straw comes when Tony parks at the grocery store of the last town they pass through before they’ll get into upstate lake country proper. He turns off the ignition, smiling over at Peter.

“Hey kid, what d’ya say you and me pick out some groceries for the week? Looks like they have an outdoors section too-- we can grab some hiking boots for you.”

Peter barely glances at him before shaking his head and turning to look out the window, Tony hearing the volume on his music increase.

With a long, frustrated sigh Tony unbuckles his seatbelt, about to open his door to go inside when he grits his teeth, turning to Peter instead and pulling the kid’s left headphone out with a swift yank.

“What the hell?” Peter snarls as he turns to Tony, eyes wide and furious. He starts to put the earbud back in but Tony holds on tightly to the cord, fixing him with a stern look.

“Nope, nuh-uh. Not until you quit with the silent treatment and tell me what the hell is going on with you. Because I thought we moved on from this sullen teenager schtick months ago.”

Peter mutters something too low for Tony to catch. “You’ll have to say that a bit louder if you want me to hear you, kid.”

“I said,” Peter begins, voice low and angry, “that I thought we had too, but that was before you decided to not have my back with Uncle Obie!”

“This is about last night?” Tony asks. “Kid, look, you gotta understand that I--”

“Oh, I understand alright,” Peter seethes. “I understood perfectly when you just stood there and said ‘yes sir’ after-- after _months_ of telling me that I should stand up to him. And then you couldn’t even be bothered when you had the chance.”

Tony sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Pete, listen. You know I support you, and I definitely don’t agree with his decision, okay? But Stane is my employer. He can fire me at any time, so I have to be careful to--”

“Oh, so you’re just worried about your job, is that it?” Peter snarks, crossing his arms as he stares stubbornly out his window again, refusing to face Tony. “That’s all the other two guys before you cared about, at least until they left because they got tired of dealing with me. Well, maybe you should just quit too!”

Tony can feel his temper rising, the sudden hurt that flares up in him at the kid’s vicious words piling on top of the building frustration of the last few hours all coming together to form one great big ball of anger.

But something tells him that’s exactly what Peter wants. That he _wants_ Tony to lose it, thus giving the kid a real reason to keep pushing him away. Well, too bad for Peter, Tony decides-- he’s not taking that bait.

Instead, Tony takes a few long deep breaths before saying calmly, “You’re wrong, Pete. It’s not because of my job. Well, it is, but-- not the way you think. It’s because-- because I’m worried about you, and not being there when you need me.” Tony pauses, before adding more firmly, “So no, sorry to disappoint but I’m not quitting, not now or anytime soon.”

There’s silence for a few moments, Tony watching as Peter’s body seems to slump in his seat as though giving up the fight. Slowly the kid starts to turn toward Tony, stopping before he’s completely facing him-- staring at the glove compartment instead. Tony doesn’t miss the way the kid’s eyes are wet as he says quietly - almost regretfully - “But you _have_ to quit.”

Tony shakes his head. “What? What makes you say that, Pete?”

The kid bites his lip, voice thready as he replies, “You think I don’t know why we’d suddenly have to go away like this? Someone is clearly after me again, and if you don’t quit now before they come for me then you could--”

Peter cuts himself off, Tony watching as something that looks close to deep grief crosses the kid’s features like a shadow. 

The truth of the situation - that Peter isn't angry but _scared_ \- suddenly hits Tony like a lightning bolt, wanting to reach out and hug the kid as he says, “Nothing’s going to happen to me, Pete.”

Peter whips his head the rest of the way to look at Tony, the grief still there but smoothed over by heartbreaking resignation. “You don’t know that, Mr. Stark.”

Tony opens his mouth - a rebuttal on the tip of his tongue - but something in the kid’s knowing expression stops him. 

Instead of arguing he says, “Well, one thing I do know is that I’m always going to do whatever I possibly can to keep _both_ of us safe, okay? Your well-being is my number one priority, and that’s not ever going to change, but-- I won’t be recklessly dumb if I don’t have to be, either. Can you believe me when I say that?”

After a few beats, Peter nods slowly, though his expression remains somber. Hating seeing the kid so down, Tony searches his mind for something to lift Peter’s spirits.

“Tell you what,” he finally says, “when we get back to the city, I’ll talk to your uncle and see if I can’t persuade him to let you see Harry again, huh?”

Peter’s eyes light up. “You’d do that?”

Tony shrugs. “I mean, I can’t make any promises that it’ll help, and chances are that even if he does agree it would come with a few parameters you won’t exactly appreciate, but-- _oof!”_

Tony stills, Peter having bodily flung himself across the middle console and hugged him tight around his middle.

Before Tony has a chance to really savor or even return the gesture Peter is already pulling away, grinning as he says, “Thanks, Mr. Stark. You have no idea how much that means. I was scared I wouldn’t see him again until his funeral or something and--”

“Hold up. His funeral?” Tony asks, Peter nodding solemnly. “What makes you think you wouldn't see Harry until his funeral, Pete?”

“Harry-- he’s sick,” Peter says quietly, looking down at his lap. “I don’t know what it is, exactly, but I know it’s bad. His dad is like, constantly asking him for blood and urine samples to test and making him try all these experimental cures to see if they’ll help. Harry doesn’t talk about it much, but I’ve been around enough to know that it’s what his mother died from and also that… it’s getting worse.”

Tony takes a sharp breath, considering this new information. He’d always thought Harry Osborn a rather sullen, skulking character but if it was true the kid was really sick, well-- Tony could hardly blame him for being bitter. He even feels a stab of sympathy for Norman. It’s still no excuse for the man to be such a flagrant asshole, but all the same-- nobody deserved losing their wife and child to a terminal disease.

Tony wonders then if Stane knows about the Osborn kid’s illness. For Peter’s sake, he finds himself hoping not. It was heartless enough the way he was forcing the kid not to see his best friend anymore, but if he knew said best friend was _dying?_ That’s a level of low that even in his darkest thoughts Tony had never imagined Stane to be capable of.

“Well,” Tony finally says, “I’m really sorry to hear that, Pete. I know I can’t help with curing Harry, but-- I can at least try to make sure you see him again soon. As soon as we get back, I’ll talk to him. That’s a promise.”

Peter smiles at that, looking at Tony with so much admiration in his eyes that Tony has to look away-- not used to seeing such an expression directed at him. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

Tony nods. “Now how about we go inside, see if we can’t find you some boots and figure out a few meals for the week, huh?”

“Can we grill hot dogs?” Peter asks hopefully. “I’ve only had a grilled hot dog one other time, and it was _really_ good.”

Tony laughs, opening his door. “Sure kid. We can grill hot dogs.”

* * *

It’s late afternoon by the time they pull off the final backroad. Only once they’re driving up the long, winding dirt driveway does Tony begin to second-guess his decision to bring Peter here. Logically it had made all the sense in the world, but now - with their arrival imminent - Tony wonders if it’s wise to expose so much of his personal life to Peter all at once. 

_Too late now,_ he thinks as the cabin comes into view through the trees, the dock and lake just beyond it.

“Whoa,” Peter says, eyes going wide as Tony drives the car right up to the side of the porch, parking. “What is this place?”

Tony doesn’t answer, instead glancing through the driver’s side window for any obvious sign of vandalism. It didn’t look like anything’s amiss from the front at least, but with the kid here it was better to play it safe. He leans over the middle console, Peter watching with a furrowed brow as he opens the glove compartment and pulls out a small flashlight.

“Wait here,” Tony says, unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car before Peter can protest. Pulling the cabin’s keyset out of his pocket, Tony walks up the porch stairs and unlocks the various bolts and locks, before opening the heavy wooden door and heading inside. 

The interior is dark, Tony clicking on the flashlight to see all the furniture covered in sheets and boards over the windows just as he’d arranged. There’s an odor of musty, stale disuse hanging in the air, but beneath it Tony instantly recognizes the old familiar scents of cedar, cigar smoke and worn leather. With those come a tidal wave of memories, Tony forcing them to the back of his mind as he completes a scrutinizing walkabout, checking inside every room for any signs that any living creatures had been here since he’d closed up the place.

But thankfully there’s no disturbances he can find, the cabin looking exactly as it had the day he’d left it behind to return to his tour, having no idea that less than six months later he’d be captured by the enemy and kept as a POW.

Finally satisfied that no unwanted visitors - human or animal - had been sniffing around, Tony goes back out into the main room. He’s only half surprised to see Peter there, illuminated by the faint light of the open doorway and standing by the fireplace. He’s looking down at an object in his hands.

“Thought I told you to stay put,” Tony says, but there’s no heat to it. 

The kid doesn’t answer him, instead turning around and holding a framed photograph out to Tony. “Who’s this?”

With a soft sigh Tony walks over and takes the frame finto his hands, a small smile on his face as he stares down at the studio photograph of a young, beautiful blond-haired woman.

“That’s my mother,” he says quietly. “She died when I was three. This is the only photo of her my dad kept up in the entire house, if you can believe that.”

Peter’s eyes bug out. “This is where you grew up? Way out here?”

Tony nods, carefully setting the dusty frame back in its place. “Just me and my old man. God knows I hated being so remote from the world when I was growing up, but I suppose it’s coming in handy now.”

He turns back to Peter, who is looking at him with a timid expression on his face-- as though he wants to ask more questions but isn’t sure if they’d be welcome.

To be honest, Tony isn’t sure either. But he was the one who brought the kid out here, and it wouldn’t be fair to make Peter tiptoe around him all week because of a decision Tony had made.

Feigning indifference, Tony gives the kid a friendly smirk. “Go ahead, I won’t bite.”

Peter bites his lip, before asking quietly, “Your dad, is he... alive?”

Tony shakes his head. “Died a little over four years ago. Liver disease. I haven’t been back here since the day after his funeral.”

“And you really-- grew up out here? Like, your whole childhood?”

“Most of it, yeah. We moved right after my mom died, and I was here pretty much every day until I finally left for boarding school,” Tony explains, purposefully leaving out the screaming match that had happened when he’d dropped _that_ particular bomb in his father’s lap. 

He’d been convinced at the time that Howard would sooner break his legs before he’d let Tony go away to school. In the end the man had thrown him out that very night, weeks before he was due to arrive for orientation. Had it not been for Mrs. Carter - the kind, encouraging teacher who had helped him apply for the scholarship in the first place - Tony would have been homeless, and probably stuck hitch-hiking all the way to Albany.

He didn’t see or speak to Howard for nearly ten months after that-- a length of time which, even with their strained relationship, had seemed unfathomable to fifteen year-old Tony.

Tony had no way of knowing then that less than five years later they’d end up going the rest of Howard’s life without speaking.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Tony pushes away the memory of their last conversation and focuses back on the kid, who is watching him carefully. “Any other questions?”

Peter stares at him for a few more seconds, before giving a tight shake of his head. 

Tony doesn’t believe him, but he lets it go-- all too happy to drop the topic of his sad past. “In that case, how about you start hauling in the groceries while I get the generator going? Then afterward we can turn this place over and get settled.”

With that the two of them set off to their tasks. Once Tony gets the power on, the place thankfully feels much cheerier, and even more so when Tony pries off the boards from the windows. In the meantime Peter sets to work uncovering the furniture and making the beds, before disappearing down into the basement while Tony prepares a dinner of chicken and rice.

He’s just putting the pan into the oven when Peter calls for him, Tony checking the temperature and setting a timer before plodding down the old wooden stairs.

“What is it, Pete?”

“What’s a robot doing here?” Peter asks, motioning to what is indeed a robot in the far corner-- the tarp that must have been covering it discarded on the floor.

“Huh,” Tony says with a surprised smile, reaching out a hand and patting one of the hydraulic arms. “I would’ve thought Howard would have trashed you over a decade ago, buddy.” 

He turns back to Peter. “This here is DUM-E. I created him at MIT, and took him with me when I dropped out. He’s more than a robot-- he has a small AI interface that responds to over five-hundred voice commands.”

Peter smiles softly, patting one of the AI’s arms himself. “Hey, DUM-E. I’m Peter.” The kid looks back at Tony. “Does he still work?”

Tony shrugs. “Won’t take long to find out.”

Sure enough, it only takes a few minutes to figure out that DUM-E does _not_ in fact still work.

“Sorry kid,” Tony says. “Probably a wiring issue, if I had to guess. He was finicky even back during my college days.”

“We could work on him this week, maybe? Get him up and running again?” Peter asks hopefully-- having already plucked a screwdriver from one of the many tool drawers and setting himself to the task of opening the robot’s main front panel.

It’s right on the tip of Tony’s tongue to reply that they don’t have the equipment they’d need to repair DUM-E on hand, but the excited look on Peter’s face as he sets down the screwdriver and starts to poke around the robot’s innards stops him. 

Tony looks around the basement, trying to remember everything that he’d stowed away down here back when it had been his makeshift lab in his early teen years. Back then it had been the one place he could escape to in the evenings to get away from Howard-- finding solace in his various projects as he dreamed of a life that was more than being stuck in the middle of nowhere with a drunk, bitter man for a father.

The more he recalls what he’d left down here, the more Tony thinks it might actually be possible to fix the robot-- assuming Howard had in fact left the rest of the workshop intact. It didn’t really fit Tony’s image of his father, but then neither did the man leaving DUM-E down here in the first place.

Tony finds himself feeling oddly grateful toward his dad in that moment, turning back to Peter and saying with a grin, “We can certainly give it our best shot, kid.”

As he heads back upstairs to check on the oven - leaving Peter to coo at DUM-E while the teen continues to work - Tony relaxes for the first time since they arrived.

Maybe this will end up being a good week after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are what feed my writing gremlin. Or feel free to message me on [tumblr](https://blondsak.tumblr.com)!


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